Friday, September 23rd, 2011 – feels like Saturday, slightly hungover, hair like rabid woolly mammoth, there is not enough cheese
It’s cold. Technically it’s really not cold, it’s 15 degrees Celsius, which means it’s really bordering mildly warm, unless you’re a total pussy, which I freely admit, I absolutely am. But last night I slept in some big, thick, nasty-old, cosy sweat pants because clearly my body has already gone into some sort of winter nesting mode, where it craves warmth all the time. All of which reared up to bite me squarely on the ass when I woke up SWEATING, blankets all over the place and my bum hanging attractively out of my sweats, because they’re too big, revealing an alarming plumber’s crack type situation, which I’m sure the window cleaner, who showed up at 7:30am this morning REALLY enjoyed. Note to self: curtains are there for a reason.
So yes, hi! I’m a touch hungover, I can’t lie. Long vodkas and wine will do that to a person. I get the distinct impression vodka and red wine are probably not the best of friends, judging by the atmosphere inside my head this morning and the fact I downed about a gallon of water before I even properly woke up. And last night I was up watching bizarre movies and being social with alcohol and some friends, as none of us had to be at work today and well…if that’s not a recipe for being belligerent on a week night, I don’t know what is.
It’s come to my attention my hair is reaching Defcon 1 status in terms of looking like it belongs on some feral animal. When I accidentally (on purpose) forget to brush it, it’s starting to look less loose beachy waves and more “I spent the last week sleeping in the forest” therefore, pretty soon serious measures will need to be taken. But you all know my luck with salons by now. It’s an oil and water sort of thing. I’m terrified of them and they enjoy humiliating me. I go in all hopeful, clutching fantastical ideas of what I’d like them to do and they nod and concur and placate me then I come out looking as though I asked them to, “make me look like Helena Bonham Carter after a lost weekend in Amsterdam”. It’s just safer for me to take care of business on my own.
I’m actually supposed to be doing some design stuff today but man, I don’t feel inclined. Plus there’s a giant, treadmill-induced blister on the sole of my foot that needs some serious attention. Ouch. Send help. Or cheese.
Mmmm, cheese…
Friday, September 23, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
RIP Summer
Monday, September 19th, 2011 – sunny, socks, coffee, dried cherries
Well, it seems that autumn has finally gotten its big, fat foot in the door and is taking up lodging. The days are shortening, the nights are getting chilly and I’ve been frantically realizing I need to invest in some sweaters again before I wake up one morning and find I’ve turned into Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” when he freezes to death in that creepy assed maze.
Only with a lot more hair and less psychotic tendencies. Well, slightly less. OK, that last one is debatable maybe.
I like autumn/fall a lot actually. I like the blue skies, clear air and the chill. I like the orange and red leaves and the creepy Halloween vibe. I want to bash some conkers together like we used to do when I was a kid. The only part of the autumn I don’t like is when it ends and that asshole winter shows its face again. Could we not abolish winter? Just have three seasons of awesomeness and no cold any more? I’m going to absolutely instigate this as a law when I’m the ruler of some divine world force that everyone has to bow down to. Send donations now, please, all those cocktails, wine, cheese and cupcakes needed for my “campaign” won’t be cheap! I’ll make it worth your while.
Know what might fix things? Some good coffee, a ukulele and a nice slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. You with me?
You’ll all be thrilled to know my toe, one month on, is still hurting and still fat as Octomom before she popped. It is, however, no longer purple. Just red. And huge. And less hurty than it was but still pretty achey and sorry for itself. “Drink a Kopparberg and shut the hell up, Toe!” I keep telling it, but it never listens.
You guys, if you can find Kopparberg cider, particularly the pear one, anywhere near you, get it immediately, chill carefully and drink the shit out of it. That’s my advice for the day. It’s the best advice you’ll ever get. And cider’s made from apples and apples are autumny no? See? We’re topical.
Well, it seems that autumn has finally gotten its big, fat foot in the door and is taking up lodging. The days are shortening, the nights are getting chilly and I’ve been frantically realizing I need to invest in some sweaters again before I wake up one morning and find I’ve turned into Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” when he freezes to death in that creepy assed maze.
Only with a lot more hair and less psychotic tendencies. Well, slightly less. OK, that last one is debatable maybe.
I like autumn/fall a lot actually. I like the blue skies, clear air and the chill. I like the orange and red leaves and the creepy Halloween vibe. I want to bash some conkers together like we used to do when I was a kid. The only part of the autumn I don’t like is when it ends and that asshole winter shows its face again. Could we not abolish winter? Just have three seasons of awesomeness and no cold any more? I’m going to absolutely instigate this as a law when I’m the ruler of some divine world force that everyone has to bow down to. Send donations now, please, all those cocktails, wine, cheese and cupcakes needed for my “campaign” won’t be cheap! I’ll make it worth your while.
Know what might fix things? Some good coffee, a ukulele and a nice slice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. You with me?
You’ll all be thrilled to know my toe, one month on, is still hurting and still fat as Octomom before she popped. It is, however, no longer purple. Just red. And huge. And less hurty than it was but still pretty achey and sorry for itself. “Drink a Kopparberg and shut the hell up, Toe!” I keep telling it, but it never listens.
You guys, if you can find Kopparberg cider, particularly the pear one, anywhere near you, get it immediately, chill carefully and drink the shit out of it. That’s my advice for the day. It’s the best advice you’ll ever get. And cider’s made from apples and apples are autumny no? See? We’re topical.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I Just Don't Know, Man
Thursday, September 1st, 2011 - Ornery with toe throb, urge for mischief
Now if only it would fit back in a shoe...
Ha, you guys, welcome to September, which seems like a big old ball of excrement to me because for the most part, I had next to no summer with lots of rain and now it's almost over and I'm still white as a ghost and full of the crank. Pretty soon winter will be thundering into town again, about as welcome as a foul-mouthed, old, racist aunt who smells like rolling tobacco, lavender and Michael Bolton's jock-strap. Thanks a LOT, winter.
It's especially pout-inducing, as I had to hear, daily, about how most of you people spent this summer boiling in the centre of the Sun and were practically expiring from the oppression of surviving in the fiery pits of hell, with your, "GROAN, it's just TOOOOO hot to do anything!" and your, "Please send us some rain!" and BOO HOO HOO, you fuckers, man up and shut up.
No, I'm not bitter. What made you think that? Sniff. I LIKE rain.
Anyway, I'm getting a little sunshine this week at least, so I will turn into a sappy old hippy and scatter daisies in my wake and sing that "Age of Aquarius" song and be generally as happy as a sprinkle of ice cold unicorn sweat on a hot afternoon.
I heard unicorns sweat gin and tonic, is that true?
I also found the perfect merging of ingredients to make frozen strawberry margaritas that are restaurant quality. Seriously. They are that good. So they have been icing down my mood and icing down my toe, simultaneously. Isn't that nice? Even my giant, deformed sausage-toe agrees. In fact, it suggests it needs its medicine daily. I wouldn't argue with deformed sausage-toe, because it ALWAYS knows best. Pass the tequila.
Now if only it would fit back in a shoe...
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The Eh! Team
Thursday, August 18th, 2011 – A little cheese with that whine?
Well. There’s some rusty old saying about how you can’t please all the people all the time and you can’t please an ornery Torontonian any of the time, or I could have just made that up. I’ll never tell! Proving my point, however, after my terribly illuminating insight into the great state of Ohio the other day, I received the following message from the wonderfully acid, prone to wordy tantrums, Toronto's own, The Real Johnson, who wished to lodge a complaint. The complaint is below, in full and PLEASE, feel free to unleash your wrath in the comments. Me, I am neutral like Switzerland. Flame on, people.
Dear Vegetable Assassin,
While I’m a frequent reader of the trials and tribulations, talking to mice, drinking of wine, and cracking of wise that’s chronicled on www.vegetableassassin.blogspot.com on a ridiculously prolific basis, there’s one trend on your otherwise fantastic blog that I simply can’t stand for anymore.
I’m talking of course about your systematic glorification of every single frigging American state.
While your efforts are noble in that you seem hell-bent on actually writing something about each and every one of them, I must object to yet another instance where American jingoism seems to be blinding a good writer from waxing philosophical on far more worthy a subject of her praise and investigation.
I’m talking of course about Canada.
Now, generally, we Canadians are content to simply be aware that our country is the greatest country on earth. We’re a humble bunch and our clean air, universal health care, ridiculously prolific national hockey programs and, of course, far, far superior beer are usually more than enough to keep us satisfied. Furthermore, not only do we not feel the need to brag, we’re also well aware of the likely consequences of too much bragging; namely one thing virtually no one wants too much of: visiting Americans.
However, as you seem to roll your praise across the United States (in an insanely out-of-sequence road trip, I might add), I can’t help but feel slighted without the inclusion of Canada. I sat quiet through North Dakota, West Virginia, Kansas, et al. Hell, I even kept my mouth shut when the craziest of all states, Florida, got its day in the sun. I chuckled as you shared ominous facts about various states and I bit my tongue about your Americentricism.
Until today.
Today was the last straw. God damn it if Ohio is worthy of almost a thousand words from the Vegetable Assassin then surely someone’s got to speak up for Canada!
I’m not going to get into tired clichés about how much better Canada is than the United States. That’s been done before and it’s certainly not what I’m trying to say here. It would be a waste of time to talk about our abundant fresh water and natural resources. It’s not helpful to note that one of these two countries is morbidly obese while the other enjoys a relatively healthy average weight. No one needs to point out that watching right-wing Americans spout off on Fox News makes even the most Liberal Canadian want to kiss our own Conservative Prime Minister on the mouth for being so open-minded by comparison.
I’m not going to do any of that.
And I won’t bore you with tales of how woefully ignorant most Americans are about The Great White North. I’ll skip the story of a friend who worked at the border and greeted people driving in from Michigan with skis on their roof in July. I’ll likewise skip the tale of a staged argument my friend waged with another friend in front of Americans about whose igloo was better.
Those types of comments are hurtful and don’t help inter-continental relations.
Similarly, if you do choose to write about Canada I hope you’ll skip the tired fact that we pronounce things properly and spell things the way the English do. Sure, they invented the language, but who’s to say whether Yanks or Brits are right when it comes to the English language. Y’all can do things however you like.
Instead, I hope you’ll give Canada a fair shake and simply share some interesting and enlightening facts about what I consider the greatest nation on earth. If fucking Ohio is worthy, surely we are too.
Sincerely,
The Real Johnson
(Here’s a little something to get you started:
Well. There’s some rusty old saying about how you can’t please all the people all the time and you can’t please an ornery Torontonian any of the time, or I could have just made that up. I’ll never tell! Proving my point, however, after my terribly illuminating insight into the great state of Ohio the other day, I received the following message from the wonderfully acid, prone to wordy tantrums, Toronto's own, The Real Johnson, who wished to lodge a complaint. The complaint is below, in full and PLEASE, feel free to unleash your wrath in the comments. Me, I am neutral like Switzerland. Flame on, people.
Dear Vegetable Assassin,
While I’m a frequent reader of the trials and tribulations, talking to mice, drinking of wine, and cracking of wise that’s chronicled on www.vegetableassassin.blogspot.com on a ridiculously prolific basis, there’s one trend on your otherwise fantastic blog that I simply can’t stand for anymore.
I’m talking of course about your systematic glorification of every single frigging American state.
While your efforts are noble in that you seem hell-bent on actually writing something about each and every one of them, I must object to yet another instance where American jingoism seems to be blinding a good writer from waxing philosophical on far more worthy a subject of her praise and investigation.
I’m talking of course about Canada.
Now, generally, we Canadians are content to simply be aware that our country is the greatest country on earth. We’re a humble bunch and our clean air, universal health care, ridiculously prolific national hockey programs and, of course, far, far superior beer are usually more than enough to keep us satisfied. Furthermore, not only do we not feel the need to brag, we’re also well aware of the likely consequences of too much bragging; namely one thing virtually no one wants too much of: visiting Americans.
However, as you seem to roll your praise across the United States (in an insanely out-of-sequence road trip, I might add), I can’t help but feel slighted without the inclusion of Canada. I sat quiet through North Dakota, West Virginia, Kansas, et al. Hell, I even kept my mouth shut when the craziest of all states, Florida, got its day in the sun. I chuckled as you shared ominous facts about various states and I bit my tongue about your Americentricism.
Until today.
Today was the last straw. God damn it if Ohio is worthy of almost a thousand words from the Vegetable Assassin then surely someone’s got to speak up for Canada!
I’m not going to get into tired clichés about how much better Canada is than the United States. That’s been done before and it’s certainly not what I’m trying to say here. It would be a waste of time to talk about our abundant fresh water and natural resources. It’s not helpful to note that one of these two countries is morbidly obese while the other enjoys a relatively healthy average weight. No one needs to point out that watching right-wing Americans spout off on Fox News makes even the most Liberal Canadian want to kiss our own Conservative Prime Minister on the mouth for being so open-minded by comparison.
I’m not going to do any of that.
And I won’t bore you with tales of how woefully ignorant most Americans are about The Great White North. I’ll skip the story of a friend who worked at the border and greeted people driving in from Michigan with skis on their roof in July. I’ll likewise skip the tale of a staged argument my friend waged with another friend in front of Americans about whose igloo was better.
Those types of comments are hurtful and don’t help inter-continental relations.
Similarly, if you do choose to write about Canada I hope you’ll skip the tired fact that we pronounce things properly and spell things the way the English do. Sure, they invented the language, but who’s to say whether Yanks or Brits are right when it comes to the English language. Y’all can do things however you like.
Instead, I hope you’ll give Canada a fair shake and simply share some interesting and enlightening facts about what I consider the greatest nation on earth. If fucking Ohio is worthy, surely we are too.
Sincerely,
The Real Johnson
(Here’s a little something to get you started:
- Canada is governed as a parliamentary democracy and a constitutional monarchy
- Jeopardy host Alex Trebek is Canadian.
- So is Pamela Anderson (her tits, however, are not)
- Canada's national sport is lacrosse. No one has any idea why.
- Without Canada, there would be no Star Trek: Captain Kirk and Scotty were both Canucks.
- Basketball was invented by a Canadian
- Making love to a Canadian makes you smarter and gives you shiny hair.
- We all wear plaid in the winter.)
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
I’ve Got Your Buckeye State Right Here
Monday, August 15, 2011 Runny nose, scratchy throat, OH NOES I have the lurgee
I’ll preface this by saying truthfully, I’ve never BEEN to Ohio. Not even one time. I mean I’ve just never had the opportunity, I’m sure Ohio is delightful and all the jokes I’ve ever made about Cleveland in particular – a city I have never been anywhere near – are totally unfounded and it’s a beautiful, clean, healthy, breathtaking city full of shiny people and goodness. Having said that…
What do you think of when you think of Ohio? Which I’m sure you all do A LOT. Am I right? Of course I am. Maybe you think of it as the gateway to the glorious, sunshiney, cornfed midwest? Maybe it seems more….corporate. I always think of “Office Space”, not because it was set there – I don’t have a clue where it was set – but it seems like it SHOULD have taken place in Ohio.
Perhaps you live in Ohio and are already sharpening a shiv out of a wooden spoon to gauge out my eyes at the first hint of a derogatory mention of your fine state? Well don’t you get all stabby with me Miss or Sir.
Despite Ohio being a midwestern state, it pays to remember that it also borders Kentucky making areas like Cincinnati more Southern than midwestern because, seriously, have you heard people from Cincinnati talk? And rumour has it they possibly have a lower ratio of teeth than in say…Cleveland. I’m just saying. You can’t argue with geography, people. Somewhere there's a teeth:geographical region pie chart in this but luckily for you all, I'm too lazy to make it.
So Ohio. What informative drivel can I tell you? Its borders are formed by The Ohio River to the south (“Great tragedy on the River Ohio!” “What’s in my hand?” “Chapstick!” AAAAAAAGH!!!! Semi obscure movie reference although the movie's set in WV. ) and Lake Erie on its northern side and it borders the states of Indiana, Michigan, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ontario, which isn’t a state at all, because it’s a province in Canada. See? Try to keep up.
Now according to the warring gods of the internetz, a total of either seven or eight presidents hailed from Ohio (they can't agree) – although perusing the list they’re mainly the ones you’ve either never heard of or you’ve vaguely heard of but wouldn’t know their faces if they got up and slapped the smirk off your face with a wet fish. Except Ulysses S. Grant. I mean who hasn’t heard of that dude? Also? Interesting observation: You never hear of anyone calling their baby “Ulysses” anymore do you? Let's start a new trend, people.
“Get to the goddamn dirty Heathens already, Veg!” I can hear you cry. Well. Keep your panties on, blogworld. I’m getting to it. Approximately 15-17% of Ohioans are not religiously affiliated and don’t see the importance of religion. You go on with your bad selves, Ohio! Despite this, its state motto is “With God all things are possible” so thanks for that, other 83-85%! I’d tell you how it compares to the other states we’ve covered but that would require going back and researching my own entries and well…clearly that’s not going to happen as I have the attention span of a stem of rhubarb. Probably from being a dirty Heathen myself. But I think it’s in the middle range somewhere. No? Perhaps?
I was interested to find out that Ohio’s state drink is tomato juice. For real. Tomato Juice. Not even a bloody Mary! Just plain tomato juice. Who knew that was even a thing? Juice without alcohol. *shakes head in wonder*.
What other facts can I tell you that will knock your socks off regarding Ohio? That the first traffic light in the United States was erected in Cleveland? Because it was. In 1914! Or that Akron Ohio is the rubber capital of the world. I don’t know about you but I am now picturing all SORTS of hilarious things going on in Akron.
That might just be me…
What else? Oh yes:
- The first hot dog was invented in Ohio.
- 50% of the population of the United States lives within a 500 mile radius of Columbus, Ohio. For real. 50 percent. Holy shit.
- Cleveland was the world’s first city to be electrically lit. Yes really!
- The first cash register was invented in Dayton, Ohio.
See? Don’t say I never teach you anything. Now wasn't that all riveting? Aren't you happy it's over? I'M happy it's over.
I’ll preface this by saying truthfully, I’ve never BEEN to Ohio. Not even one time. I mean I’ve just never had the opportunity, I’m sure Ohio is delightful and all the jokes I’ve ever made about Cleveland in particular – a city I have never been anywhere near – are totally unfounded and it’s a beautiful, clean, healthy, breathtaking city full of shiny people and goodness. Having said that…
What do you think of when you think of Ohio? Which I’m sure you all do A LOT. Am I right? Of course I am. Maybe you think of it as the gateway to the glorious, sunshiney, cornfed midwest? Maybe it seems more….corporate. I always think of “Office Space”, not because it was set there – I don’t have a clue where it was set – but it seems like it SHOULD have taken place in Ohio.
Perhaps you live in Ohio and are already sharpening a shiv out of a wooden spoon to gauge out my eyes at the first hint of a derogatory mention of your fine state? Well don’t you get all stabby with me Miss or Sir.
Despite Ohio being a midwestern state, it pays to remember that it also borders Kentucky making areas like Cincinnati more Southern than midwestern because, seriously, have you heard people from Cincinnati talk? And rumour has it they possibly have a lower ratio of teeth than in say…Cleveland. I’m just saying. You can’t argue with geography, people. Somewhere there's a teeth:geographical region pie chart in this but luckily for you all, I'm too lazy to make it.
So Ohio. What informative drivel can I tell you? Its borders are formed by The Ohio River to the south (“Great tragedy on the River Ohio!” “What’s in my hand?” “Chapstick!” AAAAAAAGH!!!! Semi obscure movie reference although the movie's set in WV. ) and Lake Erie on its northern side and it borders the states of Indiana, Michigan, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ontario, which isn’t a state at all, because it’s a province in Canada. See? Try to keep up.
Now according to the warring gods of the internetz, a total of either seven or eight presidents hailed from Ohio (they can't agree) – although perusing the list they’re mainly the ones you’ve either never heard of or you’ve vaguely heard of but wouldn’t know their faces if they got up and slapped the smirk off your face with a wet fish. Except Ulysses S. Grant. I mean who hasn’t heard of that dude? Also? Interesting observation: You never hear of anyone calling their baby “Ulysses” anymore do you? Let's start a new trend, people.
“Get to the goddamn dirty Heathens already, Veg!” I can hear you cry. Well. Keep your panties on, blogworld. I’m getting to it. Approximately 15-17% of Ohioans are not religiously affiliated and don’t see the importance of religion. You go on with your bad selves, Ohio! Despite this, its state motto is “With God all things are possible” so thanks for that, other 83-85%! I’d tell you how it compares to the other states we’ve covered but that would require going back and researching my own entries and well…clearly that’s not going to happen as I have the attention span of a stem of rhubarb. Probably from being a dirty Heathen myself. But I think it’s in the middle range somewhere. No? Perhaps?
I was interested to find out that Ohio’s state drink is tomato juice. For real. Tomato Juice. Not even a bloody Mary! Just plain tomato juice. Who knew that was even a thing? Juice without alcohol. *shakes head in wonder*.
What other facts can I tell you that will knock your socks off regarding Ohio? That the first traffic light in the United States was erected in Cleveland? Because it was. In 1914! Or that Akron Ohio is the rubber capital of the world. I don’t know about you but I am now picturing all SORTS of hilarious things going on in Akron.
That might just be me…
What else? Oh yes:
- The first hot dog was invented in Ohio.
- 50% of the population of the United States lives within a 500 mile radius of Columbus, Ohio. For real. 50 percent. Holy shit.
- Cleveland was the world’s first city to be electrically lit. Yes really!
- The first cash register was invented in Dayton, Ohio.
See? Don’t say I never teach you anything. Now wasn't that all riveting? Aren't you happy it's over? I'M happy it's over.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Beware The Gingah Ninja
Friday, August 12th, 2011 - there may have been wine
I'm not a ninja. Sometimes I THINK I'm a ninja because I have some black leggings and a long black sweatshirt that I will sport on the treadmill on cool days and usually that would be enough to qualify me in the bad-ass stakes. That and I can do a mean ribcage kick. I think. I haven't actually tried it on a real person, so my abilities in this area could be somewhat in my head at this point. It's entirely possible that instead of the graceful, high-kicking angel of fluid movement I see inside my head, I may look more like Drew Carey attempting ballet after an evening swilling a keg of Amstel Light. But I think there's ninja in me somewhere waiting to get out. So if someone jumps out at you in the street, dressed all in black with sort of pale auburn hair and wearing one of those little eye things they give you on planes to supposedly help you sleep, it's not me in a moment of insanity, okay, it's a NINJA.
It's around now I have to admit that I may have had quite a lot of red coloured wine because it's Friday and it's....well...it's the law, no?
What have I done this week of interest? Well, honestly? Not a lot. Not much at all. I did go to the late showing of "Super 8" the other night and enjoyed it way more than I expected to. It was like someone clocked me over the head with a Rubix Cube and transported me back to the days of E.T. - a movie which incidentally makes me bawl to this day. I mean, (spoilers) THEY PUT E.T. IN A TENT AND POKE HIM WITH THINGS, people! Then when the kids rescue E.T. and finally he gets to go home and he tells Elliot he'll be RIGHT HERE? OMG. Niagara Falls. I'm not ashamed. That's one traumatic movie to put a kid through and even now it kills me.
"Super 8" had its little, "I have something in my eye" moments as well. I mean I didn't cry or anything but my eyes got a little itchy. Sniff. My eyeliner probably....
Also, I may have peed my pantaloons in certain scenes when slightly scary things were happening very loudly and very sporadically and at one point I believe I jumped so violently, I spastically threw a handful of popcorn into some lady's hood (sorry lady, but yay, bright side - free popcorn!) Loud stuff in movies makes me jumpy, what can I say? I'm an anxious person. It's my ninja senses.
On the subject of "Super 8" what's with the Fannings pumping out little pink actresses like a production line? What were the chances of birthing two pretty little blondes with remarkable acting abilities? Mrs. Fanning's vagina must be made of vitamins and hand spun gold. Anyway her kid did a great job. Crying realistically on cue is hard and she nailed it. Me, I'd need incentive. I'd need someone to offer me a deliciously gooey chocolate cake then at the last minute, right before I took a bite, take it away, in order to get that sort of reaction out of me.
Of course there's an equal chance they'd get an entirely different reaction out of me and wind up in the E.R. so you know...make your choices carefully.
Happy weekend, you guys!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Veg Gets Serious Face
Friday, August 5th, 2011 – a what the fuck moment
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m enjoying all this controversy over Vogue Paris’s current issue featuring a ten year old model in sultry make up and sporting designer clothing while posing seductively for the camera. I mean it’s pretty ludicrous. Any normal person can see that. People are outraged! People are fretting. People are defending it. The French have no morals. The American media is full of puritanical prudes. Fight, fight, fight.
Seriously though, I’m a pretty liberal person. There are so many things people object to that I find perfectly reasonable and the American media half the time is too concerned with offending the religious element that they will scoff at almost anything these days, sometimes to the point of making me pull my own hair out and say bad words at the petty mindedness of it all.
But in this case, are the protesting media being unreasonable? Because I don’t think so. I’m not sure what sort of person out there thinks it’s a reasonable thing to do – making up a ten year old to act like a twenty year old and making her pose in a suggestive manner in an adult fashion magazine. Maybe those mothers that dress their four year olds up in tiny dresses and make up and make them shake their tiny booties on stage on “Toddlers and Tiaras”? I don’t know. I do know that that little girl probably saw it as a big game of dress up and has no idea of the impact photos like that might have on the less savoury members of society. We tell people all the time how wrong and sick it is to lust after underage kids yet we go right out and rub it in their faces by presenting them on a platter in a manner that suggests looking sexy at ten years old is okay. Therefore, it’s okay for a ten year old to look sexy but hey! Don’t you think about finding her sexy.
Plus what sort of message does it send to that ten year old girl? That this is how adult women are supposed to behave? Please.
Aren’t little girls already being sexualized way too early? I’m not even going to expect an answer to that, because OF COURSE THEY ARE. Shouldn’t that kid be climbing a tree or making dresses for a Barbie doll? She’s so young that even made up to the nines she doesn’t look remotely like an adult -she looks like a kid in make up, so what is the point they can possibly be making? That it’s okay to find a ten year old desirable? Surely not. That 15 year old models are now too old? I don’t think that’s it. That it’s never too early to get your daughter ready for the adult world? That can’t be it.
Or could it just be that Vogue magazine knew exactly what they were doing when they put a ten year old in their magazine. That they knew it would be provocative and invite publicity. Because really, what’s the bottom line for a magazine? Why, selling issues or promoting itself, of course. And really….job done.
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m enjoying all this controversy over Vogue Paris’s current issue featuring a ten year old model in sultry make up and sporting designer clothing while posing seductively for the camera. I mean it’s pretty ludicrous. Any normal person can see that. People are outraged! People are fretting. People are defending it. The French have no morals. The American media is full of puritanical prudes. Fight, fight, fight.
Seriously though, I’m a pretty liberal person. There are so many things people object to that I find perfectly reasonable and the American media half the time is too concerned with offending the religious element that they will scoff at almost anything these days, sometimes to the point of making me pull my own hair out and say bad words at the petty mindedness of it all.
But in this case, are the protesting media being unreasonable? Because I don’t think so. I’m not sure what sort of person out there thinks it’s a reasonable thing to do – making up a ten year old to act like a twenty year old and making her pose in a suggestive manner in an adult fashion magazine. Maybe those mothers that dress their four year olds up in tiny dresses and make up and make them shake their tiny booties on stage on “Toddlers and Tiaras”? I don’t know. I do know that that little girl probably saw it as a big game of dress up and has no idea of the impact photos like that might have on the less savoury members of society. We tell people all the time how wrong and sick it is to lust after underage kids yet we go right out and rub it in their faces by presenting them on a platter in a manner that suggests looking sexy at ten years old is okay. Therefore, it’s okay for a ten year old to look sexy but hey! Don’t you think about finding her sexy.
Plus what sort of message does it send to that ten year old girl? That this is how adult women are supposed to behave? Please.
Aren’t little girls already being sexualized way too early? I’m not even going to expect an answer to that, because OF COURSE THEY ARE. Shouldn’t that kid be climbing a tree or making dresses for a Barbie doll? She’s so young that even made up to the nines she doesn’t look remotely like an adult -she looks like a kid in make up, so what is the point they can possibly be making? That it’s okay to find a ten year old desirable? Surely not. That 15 year old models are now too old? I don’t think that’s it. That it’s never too early to get your daughter ready for the adult world? That can’t be it.
Or could it just be that Vogue magazine knew exactly what they were doing when they put a ten year old in their magazine. That they knew it would be provocative and invite publicity. Because really, what’s the bottom line for a magazine? Why, selling issues or promoting itself, of course. And really….job done.
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